


Sick Day

by acidtonguejenny



Series: Improbably Fluffy Bakery AU [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/acidtonguejenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which flour may be a fetish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

Seven months later, it’s a Thursday, and John’s out of work with a cold.

He’d stretched it a little to call out. His fever was only so by about a degree, and he was pretty sure it was already gone. But his body ached, his head was stuffed, and his throat was dry from breathing through his mouth for the past four days. He’s sick. He’s not going to work.

He hadn’t decided whether or not he’ll need to cancel his date. The date, at least, he was looking forward to. He was pretty sure he wasn't contagious.

What was worse than being bored and sick, he realized at about 3PM, was being bored, sick, and horny. Runny noses and inner ear disturbances are not conducive to sexy times, and it made him nauseous to consider all of that physical activity. And all of that _breathing_ , ugh.

At 3:30, when a particular X-Files rerun had failed to redirect his attention, he compromised with himself. A jerk off in a hot bath, while the water alleviated his soreness and the steam allowed him to breath normally, if only for a little while.

He settled comfortably against the far side of the tub, absently tugging himself to get the show going, and considered his material. John closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wall.

His list has been pretty short, as of late, mostly being variations on intimate situations involving his boyfriend.

Mm. Boyfriend. John, his eyes still closed, still fondling himself, grinned. Big, bulky, sweet-smelling boyfriend, who had brought a pie to his grandmother’s birthday party last month that his relatives were still talking about. Charmed the folks? Check. Pleasant to look at? Check. Good in the sack? Che-yeck.

Suddenly John knew exactly how he wanted this bath to go. Thanking his job on the force for ingraining in him the habit of always keeping a phone within reach, he dried his hand on the towel hanging up and dialed. 

He didn’t give a thought for the time, but apparently he was in luck. Bane picked up almost immediately.

“Yeah,” he said. 

My boyfriend, the orator, John thought cheerily. He sank lower in the water, rolling his thumb joint against himself.

“Hey,” he said. “you know how you won’t let us do anything in the bakery? Because of health codes and where we eat and yadda yadda?”

Bane grunted.

“I’ve been thinking about that…” John said, hitching a sigh as a pang of arousal shot up his groin. “If we could…how would it happen?”

Bane breathed against the receiver.

“On the floor?” John wondered. “But that would be hell on your back, or my knees.” He said, considering.

“The cart.” Bane suggested.

“Mm. Wheels.” John said. “That could go well, or go horribly.”

Bane rumbled. “Easier on my back. The cart would do all the work.”

“Roll it back and forth.” John pinned the phone against his shoulder and reached under himself. Bane must have heard the water. 

“You’re in the bathtub?”

John breathed deeply. He was fully erect now, between his coaxing and Bane’s growl in his ear. He touched his tongue to his top lip as he sank a single finger into himself, wanting to savor this. His hips twitched, making little waves that Bane surely also heard.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and groaned, easing in a second finger slowly, with much more care than was strictly needed. “Bane.” He said. “Keep going.” 

“The table.” He offered, obliging.

“With flour still on it?” John laughed lowly. “I’ve always got flour on me, you know, since I met you. Worse than glitter.”

“You’d be covered in it by the time I finished with you.” Bane promised.

Three fingers, now actively massaging his prostate. He flattened his tongue, allowed saliva to well up on it, and took his hand off his dick to lick it. “Find it in my clothes at work, maybe talking with the Sargent, and remember.” He grunted, getting close. It was becoming hard to keep the phone above the water level.

“Yeah,” Bane rumbled.

“Bane,” John said. “Bane, Bane, Bane—ah!”

Bane snarled like an animal on the other end of the line as John came seeing stars. He moaned pitifully as the rush ebbed away, leaving him panting.

“Bane,” he said, breathless and faint. “When do you get off tonight?”

“Now.” Said Bane fiercely. 

John grinned tiredly. “Bring me a croissant.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mine and a friend's New Years resolution is to write 500 words of something everyday :) This is for today's 500.


End file.
